


Broken Love

by SmoakingGreenArrow



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), olicity - Fandom
Genre: Arrow 6.5, Arrow Season 7, Character Death, F/M, Felicity kicks some ass, Mild Gore, Not really speculation, Post-Canon, some violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-05-09 13:36:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14717075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmoakingGreenArrow/pseuds/SmoakingGreenArrow
Summary: Felicity and Oliver try to adjust to their new normal, but with Oliver in jail and Felicity in protective custody, neither are coping well with the distance. Oliver receives an offer from Agent Watson and Felicity takes matters into her own hands. (6.5 fic)





	1. The Raw End of the Deal

**Author's Note:**

> I dreamed up a storyline that was further out of the box than Oliver going to prison in the season 5 finale. I was SO sure that 6x23 wouldn't drop us in a predictable (boring) place *eye roll emoji.* Unfortunately I was wrong, but here is my idea of what should happen!

 

 

Keeping it together for William felt like the only thing she had control over. So Felicity turned her back as her husband explained to his son that he was going to prison. That he wouldn’t be around.

The pain hit home for her as much as it did for William, but when the young boy let out a frustrated and confused sound from the back of his throat, Felicity’s hands began to shake, nerves filling her chest because he didn’t deserve this. Oliver didn’t either. Both of her boys had been through far too much.

Felicity took a deep breath, sucking it in through the hand over her face. She was afraid to pull it away, knowing that there was so much pain inside of her in that moment and she was afraid of what might come out. The last thing William needed was to see her lose it.

But god, she wanted to scream.

Staring at the wall in front of her, she could feel the energy in the room. Oliver’s nervous sadness was familiar, but she could sense how much confusion and heartbreak was radiating from William too, and it was so familiar that it forced her to find a morsel of strength and pull herself together. She couldn’t hide her tears, but she didn’t care about that. Their world was changing, and William needed to see that it was okay to be sad about it. What he didn’t need to see was a mental breakdown. 

Swallowing the pain, she turned back around, exhaling as she met William’s eyes. She forced a smile, “it’s going to be okay,” she offered with a nod, having no idea what Oliver had even said to him. 

For some reason, she couldn’t look at her husband. 

So she reached for William, and he shrugged out from under the hand Oliver had on his shoulder, crossing the room until he slammed into her, his arms winding around her waist and making the breath catch in her throat. His heartbreak was too similar to her own. They both knew what they were losing in a man like Oliver Queen. The kind of whole he would leave. 

She also knew exactly how it felt to lose your father in this way, to things that were out of your control, and she knew how helpless William felt. Confused and angry. No kid deserved this, but it was the absolute  _last_ thing that William deserved. 

Oliver’s eyes were on her, she could feel them. But she stared out of the window, pressing her lips to William’s head and running her hand through his hair.

There had been so many moments in the past few months where she bonded with Oliver’s son. He was so much like his father; all passion and strength. But he was also innocent. He was a kid. And she’d never felt closer to him than in that moment, holding him as he had to say goodbye to the man who had promised to always come back. “Where are we going, Felicity?” He asked her.

“Somewhere safe.”

William held on a little tighter, “but you’re coming this time?”

It still confused her how she’d managed to deserve him looking at her like that, reliant on her comfort. But it also amazed her. She nodded, “yeah, honey. I’ll be with you. So will the Diggles. And maybe even Zoe and Rene...” she ventured, wanting to glance at Oliver for confirmation but she was struck by how hard it was to even look at him. 

She was mistaking her anger for sadness. Or maybe it was a little bit of both. Probably a lot of both. 

Finally, she slid her eyes to Oliver and realized that as sad as she was...she was also  _fuming_. Being sent to a safe house was never what she agreed to. Her husband going to prison was a decision she was left out of. And she was angry for William, who never wanted to lose his father, who was so confused, his heart being broken with another loss of a parent. 

Staring at her, Oliver’s eyes softened, tears slipping down his cheeks that he didn’t bother hiding. And there was sadness, because this was also the man who was constantly suffering. The one who deserved happiness but hardly ever seemed to win. He didn’t deserve  _this_. 

It was her own schism.

The heartbreak and the rage. 

Equally pulling her and neither of them feeling good. Not knowing who to blame.

“William...” Oliver stood up, his eyes still on her. “I need you to do something for me.”

She hesitated, her fingers gripping into William’s jacket a little harder now, because there was no way he was actually about to ask for a  _favor_. After all of this. When William turned his head to look at him, Oliver finally broke their eye contact, bending down to speak to his son. “Can you help me out?” Oliver asked gently, waiting until William nodded to continue. Of course, William nodded, his father’s stubborn strength playing across his face in spades. “Felicity is one of the strongest people I know,”

William glanced up at her as if to confirm, “me too,” he agreed.

Oliver blinked back tears, “she’s so strong...that sometimes I forget she’s even human. She’s pretty perfect. But I think she forgets that she doesn’t have to be, and _I_  forget that things hurt her as badly as they hurt me.”

“Like you going away?”

“Exactly. She’s really good at hiding when she’s upset, so... I need you to be there for her. Because I know she’s going to work very hard to make you happy, but sometimes, you might have to remind her that it’s all right to be perfect. That everything doesn’t have to be okay all the time.”

Her vision blurred with tears as William looked at her again, and out of habit, she forced another smile, inadvertently proving Oliver’s point. He looked back to Oliver and nodded seriously, “I can do that.”

“Good... I know you can, kiddo.”

“How long until you can come home?” William asked.

“I don’t know...” Oliver gaped, at a loss, and Felicity could see the fight inside of him. He wanted to promise that it wouldn’t be for long. Or at least not forever. But he’d already made a promise he couldn’t keep, and he didn’t want to make another one. “I’ll see you though, buddy. Agent Watson promised me that you and Felicity could visit, and...” he sighed, “I know it’s not what we want.” His eyes flickered up to Felicity, “any of us. But these are our cards, okay? And if anyone can handle this, it’s our family.”

Felicity felt the breath leaving her as William nodded along, so much trust and respect in his eyes as he listened to Oliver’s words. He accepted them easily and without a fight, believing the words because he had to. They all did.

Watching as William wrapped his arms around his father, Felicity blinked, everything growing tired, shutting off as she looked at Oliver. At first he squeezed his eyes shut, clinging on to his son for probably the last hug he’d get for quite a while. It broke her heart, but she didn’t have it in her to do anything but stare at him. Oliver’s eyes lingered on her, analyzing with slight worry, as if he was wondering whether or not she was going to be okay.

She’d be lying if she said she knew the answer. 

A tough act worked just fine for William, who wanted to believe that she was all right and that their world and their family would survive this and be together again soon. But Oliver could see right through her. Just like he always could. “Okay,” he finally said, kneeling down to William’s level. “Could you wait outside with Raisa for one more minute? Felicity and I will be right there, and then we’re going to have to head out there,” he said, gesturing to the window before he pursed his lips and looked up at his wife, guilt all over his face. “The press is out there...and part of my agreement with Watson... I have to tell them.”

“Tell them what?” William asked at the same moment that Felicity let out a breath of surprise, raising her eyebrows at Oliver. 

“Who I am,” Oliver clarified, nodding once to William. 

“No,” the younger boy shook his head, “you can’t do that. Dad...”

“It was part of the deal. But we planned for this, right? Before... we made sure that we had a plan. You and Felicity will be safe. Okay?”

“But what about you!?” William erupted with frustration and Felicity’s eyes closed at the broken sound. “The Green Arrow is the reason half of those inmates are there! And now they’ll know who you are, and you’re going to have to live with them!?”

“Hey, hey,” Oliver’s eyebrows furrowed, anchoring his son’s spiral with his hands on his shoulders, “I can handle it,” he told him. “It’s all going to be fine,” he hesitated, but then he said it anyway... “I promise.”

William’s eyes snapped up to Oliver’s, narrowing, and Felicity held her breath. “You said you’d always come back. You  _promised_ that.”

Letting out a heavy breath, Oliver nodded, “I know,” he whispered, “and I will. I  _will_ always come home, and I will never give up on the two of you. I love you, William.”

“How will you come back, dad? What’s your plan...how are we...when will this be...” William sighed. Oliver squirmed for a moment, unsure how to answer the loaded question, and she didn’t bother offering him any help. She’d already suggested a prison break and he’d turned it down. 

His plan was clear. Serve the sentence.

So Felicity left it up to Oliver to find an answer, to figure out how to keep the promises he’d made to his son. And to her.

“We’ll find a way,” Oliver answered finally, his voice so confident and calm that she was almost convinced. “The  _right_ way,” he clarified, his eyes flickering up to her.  _He_ was definitely convinced. He still believed that someday they’d have a normal, happy life. But she wanted him now.

Watson knocked before opening the door, “Mr. Queen,” she said, her eyes glancing between all of them. “I got you five more minutes, but you’re going to need to wrap this up.”

“Get the hell out,” Felicity snapped, surprised by the volatile tone of her voice as much as Oliver and William were. Both of their eyes widened at her, but Samanda Watson just nodded with a quiet ‘five more minutes,’ leaving them with the reminder and closing the door behind her.

Oliver sighed, fidgeting again, “Okay buddy, I need to talk with Felicity, we’ll be right there,” he said again. “Can you wait with Raisa for a few minutes?”

William shrugged, hugging him one more time before going to the door. Felicity opened it for him, brushing her hand over his head as he walked by. Then she shut the door gently, knowing what to expect from Oliver. 

It was time for apologies. For promises. For requests. For plans. For assurances that she’d take good care of William. She took a deep breath and turned to him, preparing to spend her last few minutes with him, discussing all of those things as quickly as they could.

But Oliver was on her as soon as the door closed. As soon as she turned to look at him, he was pulling her away from the door and pushing her against the wall, his lips finding hers. 

And the kiss felt futile, a sad goodbye. She accepted it, clutching onto the shirt over his chest and pulling him closer. “Felicity,” he groaned, his hands sliding over her body, his palms hot as he reached her face, cupping her face. 

At first the kiss made her feel strange...  _lonely_ in the most bizarre way, because she could feel everything he was feeling. But when his tongue slid across the seam of her lip, begging for her to let him in, she opened her mouth and her heart began to race. She felt the weight of it. The finality behind his touches. 

It was like he was desperate to make sure she’d always remember how it felt when they kissed.

God, just the  _thought_... 

Never kissing him again wasn’t an option. Having a last kiss with Oliver Queen was unthinkable. And suddenly she was on the same page, the same panic and torment filling her body that was rolling off of him. 

Her breath was heavy, but she could feel his chest rising and falling against hers at the same pace, completely in sync.

It was perfect, because it was  _Oliver_... and she could feel every inch of him, every breath and everything he wanted her to feel. But it also felt wrong in some way, because it was a goodbye... and she’d never planned on saying goodbye to him. 

Still, she poured her whole heart into the kiss, feeling like she was giving it up, handing it over for him to take with him when he left.

“I love you so much,” he breathed against her mouth, “please don’t give up on me.”

She froze for a moment, wondering how his head could even be going there. “I told you I would wait for you, didn’t I?”

He met her eyes for the briefest moment before he pushed his forehead against hers, sharing her space as they caught their breaths. She was grateful for his hands on her hips, anchoring her to the ground, keeping her steady. “I didn’t handle any of this right...please, baby,” his voice dropped, the closest thing to begging she’d ever heard from him. “You told me that your greatest fear was losing me. It’s mine, too. My biggest fear is losing you. I  _can’t_.”

“You won’t.” She promised, knowing at least that much. There was so much uncertainty, but  _that_ was true. No matter what. “I love you.”

Oliver nodded, his nose rubbing against hers, and then he moved his lips over her face, kissing her all over. His arms wound around her waist, and he held her so tightly that she wasn’t sure if he was holding her up or if she was holding him up.

They swayed like that until Agent Watson came in to take Oliver away, and watching him be put in handcuffs again tore her heart into shreds worse than any time before. Because this time she knew it was for good. 

But she didn’t break down as she watched him get hauled off. She kept her composure when she heard him tell the world his secret. She didn’t cry when they watched him be loaded into a bulletproof truck, watching the cold and emotionless expression on his face as he prepared for the environment he was about to walk into.

After he was gone, Diggle drove them outside of town, bringing them to a temporary safe house. But she didn’t feel anything as she stared out of the window, watching the dark city she called home fly by her with a sleeping William on her shoulder. She held it together as John helped her bring everything inside and get William into bed. 

Dig seemed to know not to bother her, to let her be, but he did offer to sleep on the couch, and she nodded, feeling more afraid of being alone than she wanted to admit. She’d grown used to having the most skilled and deadly man she knew protecting their home and sleeping in her bed. 

She didn’t break down when John gave her a hug goodnight. Although she wanted to. Or when she checked on William, seeing the same furrow in his brow as he dreamed that his father always had.

It was only when she closed her bedroom door, finally alone in the unfamiliar room, that she felt the numbness break. Her tears came easily, and she let it all rush in, sinking to the floor and leaning against the bed. Her heart felt like a gaping hole, so breathless that she had to grip her chest as if to make sure that it was still there.

She curled her legs up, bringing both of her hands to her face to keep from screaming. There were noises in her throat, and she did her best to stay quiet, not wanting to wake William up, but there was  _pain_ in her chest that needed to be let out. It was a mix of nausea and exhaustion that left her insensible for a long time.

Finally, Felicity let out a tiny whimper, and the flood gates released. She sobbed, allowing the emotion to roll over her whole body. It came in waves of sadness, loneliness, fatigue, and anger, washing over her in cycles that never seemed to end. And they really didn’t. Felicity continued to cry, her eyes hurting and desperation eating at her for the tears to stop. 

Sleep came first though, her exhaustion finally being the wave that dragged her under.


	2. One Thousand Lifetimes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Titles of each chapter are also titles of poems by Beau Taplin, who is an amazing poet and I strongly suggest reading some of his work if you haven’t before:) Also, shoutout to @jules85 for the lovely idea about where Oliver’s wedding ring will end up now that he’s behind bars.

The floor was painful under Felicity’s back. It kept her in a constant realm of never truly falling asleep. The wooden boards kept her tossing around for most of the night; that, and of course the fact that her husband was locked up in prison. But either way, she was getting an awful night’s sleep.

A few hours after she’d gone to bed, Felicity registered that someone was opening the door to her new bedroom in the A.R.G.U.S home. But she was too tired to open her eyes. Instead, she waited until a pair of arms lifted her from the floor, and she let her mind slip to Oliver, picturing him gently carrying her to the bed. He laid her down on top of the covers, immediately pulling them back and covering her up.

But the sheets were cold, untouched all night, and she groaned, wanting him to help her warm them up. “It’s going to be okay, Felicity.” She frowned because it wasn’t Oliver’s voice talking to her, but she rolled over, sighing as she tried to fall back asleep because she recognized it as John’s.

She knew that it was early, she could tell by the chill in the air and the annoying birds outside the window. If Oliver were in bed with her, she’d be pushing her toes against his legs while he mumbled something in her ear, saying that the chirping was nature’s wake-up call. And she’d grunt something back about the miracle of technology and the inventions of alarm clocks with preset times for that.

With the familiar banter running through her mind, she started to drift to sleep again, falling into a slightly deeper one now that she had a comfortable mattress beneath her back instead of solid wood. 

When Felicity opened her eyes again, it was late enough that the birds had shut up, but the sun wasn’t quite done rising. She guessed around 7:00 or 8:00 in the morning. She was also more aware of where she was and why. Which meant that the weight on her chest crept back inside, and she took a deep breath as she stared at the ceiling.

William wouldn’t be awake yet, he liked to sleep in if he wasn’t nudged out of bed for school. Felicity that John would be up, though. That even if he’d stayed up half the night, he would still be up with the sun. 

As she flung the blankets away and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, Felicity was assaulted with cold air. It was only somewhat surprising when she opened the drawers to the dresser and found it stocked with clothes. Pulling out some socks, she slipped them on before heading downstairs.

Following the scent of coffee was instinct, but she hesitated in the doorway of the kitchen when she heard Lyla’s voice, speaking in a hushed tone like she was trying not to wake up the house. Felicity froze, pressing her shoulder to the wall and trying to hear her. “You and I both know how powerful my connection runs when it comes to  _that_.” In the silence that came after, Felicity realized that she wasn’t talking to John or anyone else, but that she was on the phone, and she wished she could peek her head around the corner and see Lyla, but she knew that the woman would catch her. “Don’t test me,” Lyla snapped, “just see what you can do.” Then she hung up and threw her phone onto the counter top.

Listening for another moment, Felicity waited until Lyla huffed, clearly done with whatever the hell that was. And the smell of coffee was drawing her out of her hiding spot. When she came into the kitchen, Lyla’s eyes immediately lifted to look at her. “Good morning,” Lyla greeted, plastering on a smile and a much more chipper voice than she’d had while she was on the phone.

“Morning,” Felicity answered, glancing around the room that she hadn’t really taken the time to see after they’d arrived last night. It was a beautiful house, reminding her of the home she and Oliver had settled into in Ivy Town. But that just made her think about how Oliver wanted a life in a place like this. Somewhere calm and homey where he could finally hang up his green hood and be at peace. 

He wanted a family, and Felicity remembered the numerous nights they’d stayed up talking about their someday. How many kids they wanted and where they wanted to settle down to raise them. Actually, the safe house was so similar to the picture her husband painted, she started to wonder if he’d picked it.

Felicity sighed, plopping herself onto one of the stools at the counter and watching Lyla carefully pour three cups of coffee. “Is Dig around?” 

“He went to the grocery store,” Lyla responded, pushing a mug towards Felicity along with creamer and a bowl of sugar. “My agents moved in as much supplies as they could, but John thought it would be nice to pick up some of William’s favorite foods.”

“That’s a good idea,” Felicity nodded, her eyebrows furrowing because she hadn’t thought of it herself. In fact, she hadn’t thought much about what would happen next at all. She was in a suburb with a twelve year old that was now her responsibility. Her sole responsibility. William’s safety was on her shoulders now, without Oliver there to keep him safe. A kid who had already been through enough trauma to last him a lifetime just said goodbye to his father and was definitely feeling frustrated and confused. What he needed was comfort and stability. 

Yet comfortable and stable would not be words she’d use to describe how she felt in that moment.

Felicity inhaled sharply, coming to the realization that she did not feel prepared for this. Oliver had always said he’d come back, and despite how scared she’d been, she had always trusted that he would.

But he wasn’t  _gone_...he just wasn’t  _there_.

“It’s going to be okay, Felicity,” Lyla told her with just as much conviction as Diggle had the night before. But Felicity got the feeling that Lyla had more of a concrete plan to ensure that it would. She didn’t elaborate on any plans, but she did offer a quiet, supportive, “you’re not alone in this.”

And Felicity exhaled, forcing her shoulders to relax and believe those words. Oliver might not be able to be there with her, but John and Lyla clearly were. The space wasn’t as lonely as it’d felt just a moment ago. Especially not when Lyla reached her hand across the counter to squeeze Felicity’s. “What about the others?” she asked, letting out a deep sigh, knowing that there was still work they had to do.

“Curtis and Dinah are staying in Starling. They’re working with John and his team to find Diaz. We put up Rene and Zoe in the house next door,” Lyla confirmed, nodding her head towards the window. Felicity glanced outside, feeling a little more comfortable as she noticed how close the houses were. That Rene would at least be close. And at least William would have a friend in Zoe, so he wouldn’t be alone either.

The situation could be worse. But it definitely wasn’t ideal.

“So, what do we do now?” Felicity asked, taking a sip of her coffee even though she knew it would burn her tongue.

Lyla raised an eyebrow, “well, this house hasn’t been lived in for a couple of years.” She scrunched up her nose, “it smells a little musky in here. I figured we could clean up a bit, try to make it a bit more comfortable. For William,” she finished.

Felicity nodded along as Lyla spoke, but her eyes narrowed, since it was clear that ‘for William’ was going to be John and Lyla’s go-to logic to reason with her. “That sounds good. Maybe we could have Rene and Zoe over for dinner. And the others? How long are you and John staying?”

“Well,” Lyla inhaled, lifting her shoulders, “one of my agents is bringing JJ over this afternoon. There’s a guest bedroom on the first floor...Johnny and talked about it. We can stay however long you want us to.”

The offer made her feel relieved, so she was pretty sure that the Diggle family would be living with her forever if the decision was hers. “Thank you,”

With a smile, Lyla moved to the sink, pulling out six different bottles of cleaners and a handful of rags. “Let’s do this,” she said seriously, as if cleaning the house was a mission.

They got through the kitchen before John came back with groceries, and then the three of them unloaded the bags and filled the cabinets and fridge. Eventually, William woke up and Felicity did her best to perk up, making him an omelet that was pathetic compared to his father’s cooking, but William ate without a single complaint. 

Then he offered to help get the house ready, and Lyla turned on some music, and the four of them got to work. For a few hours, focusing on the task at hand was helpful. It gave her something to do with herself and something else to think about. At least, until Lyla’s phone started ringing from the dining room table and Felicity glanced down at it as she vacuumed, just in time to see Samanda Watson’s name come across the screen.

Lyla practically lunged for the device from where she was washing the windows across the room, although it was clear that Felicity’s saw Watson’s name by the way she glared. Lyla pursed her lips and excused herself from the room. Felicity shook her head, thinking that Lyla  _must_ know she wouldn’t drop it, especially not after the conversation she’d heard this morning. Whatever Lyla was trying to do, Felicity wanted to be a part of it.

“Hey Felicity,”

Forcing her eyes away from Lyla where she stood in the backyard, Felicity cursed the fact that she didn’t know how to lip read and turned to William. “Yeah, buddy?”

“What was it like for you after your dad left?”

She held her breath for a moment, her hands freezing where she’d been fidgeting with the vacuum. “Well-I-Listen...” she released a sharp breath, “it was much more complicated than what happened with your dad. Well, not  _more_ complicated. Just complicated in different ways. My dad chose to run away from the police, which meant he  _chose_ to run away from his family. Your dad’s decision wasn’t like that, he just-” Felicity paused, unsure how to really explain something that she couldn’t quite wrap her head around herself. She knew in her heart that it  _was_ different, she just couldn’t find the words to assure William.

“I know it’s not the same. I know dad thought he only had one option...and I know he thought he was doing the best thing for us.” William lifted his shoulders, bringing his hands together and fidgeting with his fingers, “but he was wrong.”

Tears blurred her vision as she stared at her step-son, and she took a deep breath in, releasing it and closing her eyes before she even thought about answering him. “You’re right, William,” she finally whispered, knowing that validating him was just as important as comforting him. And it was true.

Before Felicity could answer, Lyla swung the door open, her eyes frantic for a moment before she noticed William and painted on a practiced expression of ‘everything’s fine.’ She wasn’t on the phone anymore, and she waved Felicity over. “I’ll be right back,” Felicity mumbled to William, doing her best not to panic. Even though she was.

Lyla paced across the patio as Felicity gently closed the door. “John can watch William and JJ,” she rushed, mostly talking to herself, “I can call an agent on the way to help watch the kids.”

Felicity stared at her, “what’s wrong?” She asked, her heart sinking, “it’s Oliver.”

Glancing up, Lyla nodded grimly. “One of the inmates thought picking a fight with the Green Arrow would earn him some stripes at Slabside. Apparently Oliver got him sent to Iron Heights two years ago and he was transferred to maximum security after a few too many prison breaks. He attacked Oliver in the cafeteria.”

“Oh my god,” Felicity breathed, “is Oliver in trouble? How badly did he hurt him?”

Lyla’s eyes darted to hers, and Felicity’s heart sank into her stomach, realizing that she’d misunderstood. “Oliver hardly fought back,” Lyla mumbled. “He’s going to be okay, he’s getting medical attention,” she clarified, and then she grumbled to herself, “I’ve been fighting Watson on this...and this is exactly why.”

Felicity wanted to ask what exactly she’d been fighting Watson on. Oliver’s sentence? Which prison they’d sent him to? And could Lyla really use A.R.G.U.S. power to undermine the FBI? They were all questions that she wanted answers to, but instead she simply said, “let’s go.”

It took a lot of composure just to get out the door without terrifying William. Felicity did her best not to make him too worried. She was eager to get on the road, but she was able to patiently explain what was going on before she left with Lyla.

The drive over was painfully slow. Felicity couldn’t stop playing with her fingers, frustrated that Lyla wouldn’t let her drive but knowing that a speeding ticket or a car accident would’ve only slowed them down more. She was familiar with Oliver getting hurt. And the anxiety that settled in her chest whenever he was injured in the field. She understood what it was like to worry about him and feel desperate to see him, touch him, and make sure he was okay. 

But that car ride was hell.

When they finally got to Slabside, Lyla had to grab her jacket more than once, physically stopping her from barreling into the facility like a madwoman. It was a good thing, too, because she doubted the guards would let her inside if she’d run in there, yelling Oliver’s name until someone took her to him. Instead, she forced herself to stay calm, following Lyla through the prison, in all its dim lighting and cat-calling inmates.

Felicity held her breath as they reached the medical wing of the prison. It was dirty, creepy, and depressing. She continued to hold it for an uncomfortable amount of time, only letting go when they finally reached the end of the hallway and someone opened the door to reveal Oliver. Somehow, she felt detached from her body, as if part of her was rejecting the awful place, not allowing her to accept it as her husband’s new home. But as soon as she saw him, everything snapped back into focus.

His eyes lit up as he glanced up at them, and Oliver immediately tried to sit up from the bed he was laying in. He offered a pained “hey,” as he cringed.

Nodding at Felicity, Lyla waved to Oliver and then silently closed the door, giving them the room. Felicity crossed it in a few quick steps, looking for a safe area on his body to either kiss or punch, she wasn’t sure which. His face was covered in scars and bruises, some of them older, from Diaz, and others newer, from the overeager inmate with something to prove that she weirdly wanted to thank, because it’d given her a reason to see Oliver again, to be alone with her husband. 

He looked up at her like a guilty puppy, and it fueled the unstable roller-coaster that was her emotions into a different direction, making her wonder how close she was to flying right off the tracks. Felicity crossed her arms, “what were you thinking?” She accused, “why wouldn’t you fight back?”

Oliver knew her well enough to read how she was feeling. And he also knew that responding to her with a calm, logical, and soft disposition was the best thing for both of them. “He’s in solitary confinement...I’m in the med wing with my wife. I may have a few new scars, but it seemed like the smarter option.”

Felicity’s lips formed a hard line as she shook her head. “I think there are a few screws loose up in that head of yours...if your recent decision making ability is any indication.”

He closed his eyes, laying his head back, “god, I’ve missed you.”

One night apart wasn’t a big deal. But it wasn’t about the almost twenty-four hours they’d been apart. It had nothing to do with the time. It had everything to do with where they were and how long of a separation they were looking at. “Rough night?” She whispered, remembering her own night spent on the wooden floor of an unfamiliar bedroom.

Oliver opened his eyes, meeting her gaze as he nodded. “It’s always rough when I don’t have you next to me.”

“I know,” she sighed, understanding completely. “I guess it’s something we’re both going to have to get used to.”

He stared at her for a long moment, saying so much in one look without opening his mouth at all. They would get used to it. And they would be fine. His confidence that they could get through anything was shining right out of his bright blue eyes, even if his sad and bloodied face wanted to convince her of the opposite. “How are you? How’s William?” He finally asked.

Felicity hesitated, because those were both very loaded questions. “Honestly, I don’t know. On either. He’s confused and he wants answers. He wants to understand, and I’m just not the person to give them to him.” She sighed, “I’m just as lost as he is.”

Oliver pursed his lips but didn’t speak, because what could he say? There wasn’t much that he could do from a hospital bed or from behind bars. He was there, but he wasn’t really  _there_. Not in the way he wanted to be. Not in the way a parent should be. And Felicity wanted desperately to understand how that must feel for Oliver, and then she wanted to take the pain of it away.

But what could she  _do_ about that? The way that Oliver hung his head in shame almost felt like an answer.  _Nothing_. Was she just supposed to accept this life as her sentence as much as he was accepting prison as his. Was that truly what he wanted her to do? Nothing?

Changing the subject, Oliver pulled something out of his pocket. “They wouldn’t let me keep this. I only got it back because I begged, and the med wing isn’t technically considered lock-up.” He opened his palm for her, revealing his golden wedding band. “I’d gotten so used to wearing it...when they arrested me, I didn’t even think to give it to you.”

She immediately began twisting her own ring, staring at the symbol in his palm...how small and fragile it looked. And how annoyingly insecure it made her feel to see it off of his finger, held out to her as if he was giving it back. Felicity may have grown up with Donna Smoak as her mother, but wasn’t  _that_ superstitious...yet the idea of taking his ring back felt like a bad omen.

Oliver’s eyes dropped to her hands, his lips pursing as he watched her squirm. “I was hoping you’d hold on to it for me,” he whispered.

Her eyes snapped up to his, “for how long, Oliver?”

Her husband shook his head, smiling softly, seeing right through her fears. “I don’t know. Not forever, okay? I’m going to be your husband for the rest of my lifetime, you know that, right? For one  _thousand_ lifetimes. I’m yours, Felicity. And if I could keep this ring on my finger, I would. But I can’t, so I need to keep it somewhere safe.” Oliver lifted his shoulder, “and there’s no safer place to leave it than in the same place I’m leaving my heart. With you.”

She inhaled sharply, amazed for the millionth time that the same man who denied his feelings for years was also her husband who knew  _exactly_ the right things to say.

“I’ll find a way out of here...one that doesn’t involve putting you and William in danger or forcing us to live life on the run. And when I do,” he held the ring out again, and she took it, clasping it tightly as she gripped his hand. “You can give this back to me.”

Felicity nodded, stepping closer and kissing his fingers before she let go and dropped the band into her pocket. Oliver sat up to hug her, wrapping his arms around her completely and pressing his chest against hers. He held her like he did the day before, as if it might be the last time for a while.

“Will you do something for me, too?” She whispered in his ear, not wanting to let go yet. He continued to hold her as he nodded, and she had to squeeze her eyes shut when she thought about how much she was going to miss those hugs. So much love and protection in his strong arms, yet perfectly comfortable and gentle. Felicity cleared her throat, “can you promise me that you’ll stop letting yourself be a punching bag in here?” He pursed his lips, holding her hand between both of his as he sat back on the bed. “I don’t know how many of those calls I can take, Oliver. Or how many beatings like this you can survive. Or how many times William can watch me rush out of the house to come be with you. He’s as worried as I am.”

Oliver nodded slowly, “okay,” he agreed, giving her a sad, broken looking smile. I It became clear that he expected more attacks. He knew that there would be more fights. More inmates who wanted revenge, or just a shot at the notorious vigilante. 

His alternative was to fight back, which apparently would land him in solitary confinement. And she didn’t want to imagine him alone in some dark room with no windows. 

There really was no way to win for them. There was no “lesser of two evils,” everything about this sucked. The emotion was bubbling up, but it still surprised her when tears sprung to her eyes and began to fall before she could stop them. Then the frustrated sound that escaped her throat made her feel even worse when Oliver sighed, accepting how she felt and shouldering the pain as his fault. 

She could see in his eyes that he was blaming himself as he opened up his arms for her. But she didn’t have any words to make him feel better. She didn’t even know how to make herself feel better. So she climbed into the bed with him, hoping the guard outside the door either didn’t notice or wouldn’t care.

His arms wrapped around her, cradling her to his side and ignoring the injuries that were surely irritating. Oliver cupped her cheek, pressing his lips to her forehead and mumbling every comfort he could think of. Felicity flattened her palm against his skin, inhaling and exhaling with the rise and fall of his chest as she listened. “Shh, you’re okay, Felicity. I have you, and I’m going to be fine. Everything will work out. We’ll get through this just like we get through everything.” He kissed her face over and over as he spoke, “I love you.”

Closing her eyes, Felicity lifted her chin, kissing along his jaw until she found his lips and could kiss him. “I love you, too,” she told him through a sigh.

The guard must have been feeling generous, because he turned a blind eye to their obviously against the rules cuddling, and even gave them an extra ten minutes. But eventually she had to leave, and he had to heal...if only to be thrown back to the wolves as soon as he was better.

When he eventually convinced her that he was going to be okay, they said their second heartbreaking goodbye, and when came out into the hallway, Lyla was waiting. Felicity didn’t miss the eye contact or subtle nod between her and Oliver as the door closed. But Felicity chose to let it go. For now. 

As she followed the guards back to the exit, her stomach twisted in uncomfortable knots when she realized again how dark and cold Slabside was. And it was her husband’s home for the indefinite future. The man she loved was going to spend god knows how long in another hell. 

He’d spent enough time there, he didn’t deserve more.

Once they got in the car, Felicity had the patience to wait until they were on the highway again before she pushed Lyla’s buttons. She knew that the director of A.R.G.U.S was very similar to Oliver... both of them liked their secrets, they fought with their heads and not their hearts, and they were brilliant. She trusted that whatever they weren’t telling her, whatever they were planning, was going to work. But she was still going to need to be in the loop. And Lyla was the only messenger available to shoot at. “So,” Felicity started, turning to Lyla, “is Watson open to making a new deal?”

Lyla’s eyes shifted from the road to Felicity and back, but she deflecting the question, asking how much Oliver had shared. When Felicity just shrugged, pretending that the true answer wasn’t  _nothing_ , Lyla sighed, “Yes, she is...” she said carefully, “we’re just in the middle of negotiating the terms. Let me get it sorted out better, and then we’ll talk.”

Felicity raised an eyebrow at her friend. They both knew  _that_ was a long shot. 

“Fine,” Lyla grumbled, “Samanda Watson is the lead agent on the task force aiming to take down the Quadrant. It’s why she agreed to the arrangement with Oliver. Your husband clued her in to Diaz’s connection to them, and I believe that she would have come after Diaz regardless of Oliver’s deal. She used him in an attempt to catch Diaz, the Green Arrow, and hopefully the Quadrant, too. She was hoping to stop all of them with one mission. Technically, she negotiated with and involved a U.S. citizen in an FBI investigation. Oliver doesn’t have authority to work with government officials, and I’m not certain that Watson had the jurisdiction to put him in prison. If I’m right...it’s corruption, at the very least.”

Letting that sink in for a moment, Felicity stared at Lyla. “You’re saying Watson put Oliver behind bars  _illegally_? Lyla, I can work with that.” Her voice rose with optimism, finally having a rope to grab on to instead of drowning in uncertainty.

“I’m saying that Oliver already had a trial,” Lyla shrugged, “none of the evidence Watson had was new. The entire arrest depended on Oliver’s confession, which he gave in order to stop a criminal. A.R.G.U.S doesn’t usually step into other branch’s territory, but I’m already too far in to back out now. I could argue that she coerced him, that he only confessed because she agreed to help stop Diaz, and yes...for a federal agent, that’s...quite illegal.”

Her eyes snapped up to Lyla’s face, “then why is he still in jail!?”

Lyla shot her a look, “your husband didn’t help anything by going in front of a camera and telling the world that he’s the Green Arrow.”

“But you just said...”

“It’s not solid. We’d need solid proof that Oliver is  _not_ the Green Arrow, which is obviously quite hard to come up with. Especially since he denied Roy Harper and Tommy Merlyn’s validity. I’m afraid it won’t matter what Watson does, Oliver’s confession makes it pretty obvious that he’s the real deal.”

Felicity wanted to cry again. Or scream, or punch something as hard as she could. “So what do we do?”

 “Watson didn’t just send Oliver to Slabside because it’s maximum security,” Lyla shared, “she also believes that members of the Quadrant have wound up as inmates in there.”

“Okay...” Felicity said slowly, growing irritated the closer they got to the safe house, knowing that the conversation wasn’t exactly dinner-talk material with William, JJ, and Zoe around. She needed a solution before they pulled into that driveway or she’d drive herself crazy all night. “So Oliver finds out who they are, snitches on them to Watson, and he’s free?” She asked hopefully, knowing that if that was the case, it’d be a piece of cake. Which it never was.

Lyla shook her head, crushing the crumble of hope she’d been holding onto. “If Watson’s calculations are right...there are a lot of Quadrant members in that prison.”

“Oliver knows about this?” Felicity asked. Lyla nodded. “And what does he think?”

“He wants to do it. He just wanted a better way of framing it before we told you.”

“Well, I need to not be sugar-coated right now,” she huffed, and Lyla nodded again as if she understood completely. “Tell me the truth of what we’re looking at.”

“If you’re asking Oliver, he can handle it. If you’re asking me...there are too many of them. At least two or three hundred. We’re not certain who they are or what they know. My agents would call it a “Martyr’s Mission,” meaning we don’t know enough information to execute it correctly, but it’s urgent enough that someone has to try. At least, that’s how Oliver is looking at it.”

“Martyr’s Mission sounds like it suits him,” Felicity shook her head, bringing her nails to her mouth to chew on them.

Oliver would be reaching over to nudge her hand out of her mouth, but Lyla just nodded in agreement. “If you want the truth...I don’t think Oliver’s thinking clearly. He’s willing to do whatever it takes to get home to you and William, to fix his mistake. And honestly, if it were someone else, I might say take the deal. Go undercover and see what you can dig up, but this is  _Oliver_ , and...”

“And doing this would essentially be locking him in a cage with hundreds of Quadrant lackeys.”

“Exactly. One of Oliver’s most admirable traits is knowing when to fight and when to stand down.” Lyla cocked her head to the side, “in there, he wouldn’t have a choice. He wouldn’t have an escape.”

“Or a team. He wouldn’t have  _me_ ,” she breathed, her chest tightening.

By the time they got to the safe house, Felicity was comforted knowing that she and Lyla were at least on the same page. It made her feel slightly better.  _Slightly_.

The first thing she did when she got back was sit down with William and make sure that he was confident in his dad’s safety. That he knew Oliver was okay and that he loved him. Then they made their way into the kitchen and helped John cook dinner.

Felicity did her best to keep the people around her happy, laughing at the correct moments and injecting her jokes when the right time came. But her head was back at Slabside. And her heart.

She couldn’t stop thinking about what to do. It was great that Lyla had told her what was happening. She wasn’t willing to risk Oliver’s life for Samanda’s mission. Which meant they needed a new plan. One that got Oliver out of jail.

It kept her up most of the night. After dinner, after Zoe and Rene left, and after she helped William clean up the dishes, she tossed and turned for hours. Eventually she had to get out of bed, and she pulled out Oliver’s ring to toy with it as she paced and thought. 

Oliver Queen was capable of a lot. He was trained...more skilled than any of those Quadrant thugs Watson wanted. There had to be  _something_ else he could do, a different deal he could make that didn’t involve him pitting himself against three hundred criminals in a confined space.

After enough pacing that it made her dizzy, Felicity roamed into the bathroom and flipped on the light, blinded by the brightness. When he eyes adjusted, she looked at herself in the mirror. Without a thought, she unclasped the necklace from around her neck and removed the charm. Slipping Oliver’s wedding ring onto the chain, Felicity secured the necklace around her neck and let it hang, the gold band resting just over her heart.

It wasn’t until she stood there, stoic and silently watching her hand as she slid the ring onto her index finger, that she finally had an idea.

No more than a minute after the thought crossed her mind, Felicity was tucking the necklace into her t-shirt and moving back into the bedroom to find her shoes. The house was older and the floors were creaky, so she stepped slowly and carefully to the front door, swiping Lyla’s keys from the hook in the hallway.

Once she was outside, she moved faster and more freely, getting into the car and driving a little too fast, pretending her hands weren’t shaking.

She didn’t bother knocking when she found herself in front of her destination almost an hour later. Instead, she pushed the door open, knowing Samanda Watson would be awake and working.

“Mrs. Queen,” she greeted, her eyes narrowing but unsurprised, as if she’d been wondering how long it’d be until Felicity ended up here. Agent Watson flattened her hands against her desk, leaning towards Felicity. “What can I do for you?”

Lifting her chin, Felicity answered, “this is more about what I can do for  _you_.”


	3. Something Else

“Where the hell have you been?” Lyla demanded before Felicity could even close the front door. 

She cringed as Lyla crossed her arms, reminding her of Donna Smoak's lectures after a missed curfew in high school. It was nearly 5:00 in the morning. Way too early for Lyla to be using her loud voice. And Felicity was way too tired to argue. She shrugged, which only pissed Lyla off more. “You went to talk to Watson, didn’t you?” She accused, narrowing her eyes and planting her feet.

With a nod, Felicity glanced at the floor and tried to walk by, but Lyla blocked the hallway. “Are you out of your damn mind?”

The words made Felicity’s eyes dart up to hers. “Me? I’m not the one who thinks taking on three hundred thugs is a good idea.”

“No,” Lyla snapped, “that’s your husband’s plan. But you and me? We were on the same page. I told you everything I knew, and you snuck off in the middle of the night to work with Watson behind my back?”

“It’s not like that, Lyla. You know it’s not.”

“Then what is it like?” She demanded, “please, tell me how we’re in a better position to help Oliver  _now_. Now that you’ve gone and told the FBI everything.”

“I have to save him,” Felicity argued, her voice raising in anger. “I have to at least try!”

The door to the Diggles' room opened and John stuck his head out, blinking in the bright lights Lyla had turned on in the hallway. “What the hell is going on out here?”

Lyla gestured to Felicity, “Felicity took it upon herself to meet with Agent Watson.”

“What?” Dig asked, frowning. “You left the house? Alone?” He turned to his wife, “and you didn’t wake me up?”

Closing her eyes, Felicity shook her head, “whatever, I’ll let you two hash this one out. I’m going to bed.”

John caught her arm this time when she tried to slip down the hallway towards the stairs again. “What did you do?”

“I’m getting my husband out of prison!” She defended herself. Lyla pressed her fingers to her temple, soothing a headache that made Felicity feel even more like a teenager. It was obvious that Lyla thought she’d made a stupid mistake by reaching out to Samanda Watson, but Felicity didn’t see it that way.

“You can’t just  _leave_ ,” Lyla’s jaw tightened, “what if William woke up and I had to tell him that I had no idea where you were?” 

Felicity hesitated, considering the words. Then she nodded back, acceptance settling on her face. William had to be as much of a priority as Oliver. She had to always keep him in mind, too. And running off in the middle of the night wasn’t what responsible parents did, even if it was for a good reason.

“What does she want you to do?” John asked after a long silence. His voice was low, anticipating the worst.

“Watson thought Oliver could get information out of Quadrant members that will lead her to their current operations. I offered to cut out the middleman.”

“You think you can get the information from those prisoners faster than Oliver can?” Dig asked, his face serious. 

Felicity shook her head, “Watson doesn’t need Oliver or the useless prisoners at Slabside. They’re out of touch with whatever The Quadrant is up to now. What she needs in order to take them down is their _active_ participants.”

“So, what?” Lyla asked, her mouth a hard line of disapproval. “You’re going to hunt down The Quadrant and just hand them over to Watson?”

“They’re criminals, Lyla. And I can find them faster than anyone.”

“Not all of them are monsters, Felicity. Some of the lower ranks came into the business through petty crimes and fraud.”

“Then I doubt Watson will want them! She wants the heavy hitters in The Quadrant. To take down the entire organization. Oliver can’t do that from behind bars. And Watson can't do it by using incarcerated and useless ex-members. My skills are more useful to her. I can do this. I have to do this.”

Lyla just shook her head, clearly not a fan of this plan before it even started. But John knew her better, and he let out a deep sigh. “Whatever you’re doing, I’m doing. Where you go, I go. Got it?”

She swallowed, nodding as she blinked back unexpected tears. Oliver had the same protectiveness and mentality as John. Which made her feel more safe and loved than she could ever remember. But it was also the reason she was in a safe house while her husband was in jail. “The two of you have been calling the shots for as long as I’ve known you. This is my decision, John.”

He nodded slowly in agreement, “I’m backing your play here. I’m on your side...I just need you to include me in the loop from now on.”

Felicity smiled gently at her friend, “okay. That sounds fair.”

When John smiled back, Lyla’s eyes shifted between them. “That’s it?” Her back stiffened as she crossed her arms, looking up at her husband.

Diggle breathed out a laugh, pulling her under his arm and kissing the top of her head, “Felicity doesn’t take orders, honey. She’s not a soldier.” Lyla frowned, and John glanced at Felicity, shaking his head. “If you were an agent, especially on this one’s team, your punishment for disobeying orders wouldn’t be this conversation. It'd be much worse.”

“That's a damn understatement,” Lyla grumbled, throwing another glare at Felicity. 

Finally sneaking past them, Felicity headed up the stairs, “Noted. I need some sleep. We’ll talk more about this in a few hours, okay?” John nodded, but Lyla just stared at her incredulously. She knew that running off to Watson wasn’t the most courteous move, and maybe not even the smartest. But in the back of her mind, she was afraid that the always rational Lyla Michaels might talk her out of it if she’d asked for a second opinion.

Mostly, Felicity just hoped that she still had Lyla’s trust. Dig’s trust was unconditional at this point, there wasn’t much she could do to make him lose faith in her.

But Lyla’s trust was an extension of her husband’s, and as she fell asleep, Felicity hoped that she still had it. Lyla had shown her a lot of compassion since getting to the house. Not to mention that if it weren’t for Lyla, she’d still be in the dark about what Oliver planned to do. Lyla Michaels was definitely someone that Felicity wanted in her corner through whatever was coming their way.

After a few hours of sleep, Felicity got up and started digging through the closet, which had apparently been stuffed with her clothes. Her closet at the apartment was bigger, leaving Lyla’s agents to get creative with fitting her belongings in various bags and boxes. 

Most of her dresses were hung up on the racks though, and she started sifting through them and trying to decide what to wear for her first assignment from Agent Watson. She wasn’t sure how John and Lyla would feel about it. And she  _really_ wasn’t sure how Watson would feel about Dig tagging along. But neither seemed negotiable, so it left her feeling stuck. And anxious.

William knocked on the door and then gently eased it open. “Felicity?”

“In here,” she said hesitantly, searching her brain for an easy explanation for what she was about to do. One that wouldn’t make him scared or upset. She didn’t want to lie, but she did wish she had more time to find a way to explain it.

“Are you okay? I’ve never seen you sleep in so late,” William mumbled, a familiar crease of concern forming between his eyebrows. It was apparently an expression given to him by his father. Felicity sighed, nodding.

“I feel fine. Dig and I are going out for a while, though. We have to go catch one of those pesky bad guys.” She tried to make it sound normal.

“You’re leaving?” William asked.

Felicity smiled at him reassuringly, “only for a few hours, I promise. I’ll be home before you go to bed.”

William sighed, shuffling his feet and looking like he had more to say. She knew a conversation with him was long overdue. That both of them needed to get on the same page to move forward. Felicity didn’t want to get his hopes up that Oliver would come home until she could believe it for herself. She’d tell William more once she knew more. “Hey...” she frowned at the worried look on his face, "we’ll talk when I get back, okay? About all of this. And  _maybe_ I’ll even bring home some pizza.”

“You do say that pizza makes everything better,” he agreed, giving her a small smile.

She chuckled, nudging him as she walked towards the bathroom. 

After finding the right dress and appropriate makeup choices, Felicity made her way downstairs. Diggle raised an eyebrow from over a steaming pot of pasta in the kitchen. “Where are  _we_ going?”

She gestured for him to follow her down the hall, smiling at William, Lyla and JJ as she did. Then she explained Watson’s plan to John. A quick mission. All she had to do was identify one of the leaders in The Quadrant that Watson said would be at a casino in The Glades, get a tracker on him, and then go home.

The mission was basically to prove to Watson that she could trust Felicity. But in the car, of course Diggle argued that he should be the one to go into the casino. Felicity shook her head no. It was her deal. Her choice. “You’ll wait in the car as backup... _only_ if I need you.” Pulling out her tablet, she got to work. “Samanda says this guy is a ghost, no photo evidence of him as far as the FBI is capable of obtaining. Every time they get on his tail, he disappears. They think he drops out to another city with another name, so there are dozens of possibilities. And since The Quadrant has resources across the country...he has an easy way to hide.”

“And you’re going to confidently find an accurate shot of his face in the time it takes me to drive to the casino.” He didn’t ask it like a question. There wasn’t a trace of doubt in his tone. Dig smirked, shaking his head in that way that made her feel proud.

Unsurprisingly to both of them, she was able to identify the target by his real name, secure a photo of his face, and compile a list of his crimes within the hour. “With time to spare,” she grinned, dropping the tablet into her lap. 

The work felt good. Better than anything since Oliver went away. Dig glanced at her as he drove through Star City, “so what’s the guy’s deal?”

“You’ll be happy to know we’re not handing over some petty crime or fraud fool.” Felicity flashed him a shot of her tablet, “sex trafficking,” she growled, scrolling through the photos of evidence. Dig’s eyes wandered from the road to the pictures. “Still think we should sit back and do nothing about these people?”

John’s jaw tightened, his hand clenching around the steering wheel. “Let’s get that son of a bitch.”

The mission was easy enough, and she’d obviously done much riskier things in the field, been in much more dangerous situations. Yet her hands still shook as she walked into the casino. 

_Put the tracker on the creep and get out. Quick. Easy._  But a knot settled into her stomach and she wasn’t sure why until she saw the man. 

Steve Hastings was an evil man, a cruel psychopath who profited from kidnapping girls and women and selling them to the highest bidders. And she realized as she watched him that in the rare nights she participated  _not_ from behind her keyboard...Oliver was always there to protect her. 

Of course, she trusted John Diggle with her life, but it was unsettling to know that if something went wrong, her husband wouldn’t be there to have her back. “Felicity, do you have eyes on?” John asked in her ear.

She released a deep breath. “Yup. Approaching in two.” Once the bartender handed her a drink, she took a few long swigs of courage and headed for Steve Hastings. He was playing blackjack, so it was easy enough to sit down beside him and start up a conversation. Most of what she said was true anyway; that she’d grown up near Vegas and had a talent for gambling. And Felicity watched as Steve relaxed, listening to her and warming up to her company.

At a natural lull in the game, she bowed out. With the tracker between her fingers, Felicity put her hand on his arm, tucking the device under his sleeve as she said goodbye. “Well done, Felicity.” John mumbled as she retreated, her back rigid, half expecting Steve to stop her, but he didn’t.

“I’m almost out,” she whispered to her partner, heading for the parking garage next to the building where she knew John was waiting in the car. 

“Miss Smoak! Wait up!” 

She cursed under her breath.  _Only a true dirtbag follows you outside until you’re alone._ Felicity ignored Steve and continued walking like she didn’t hear him, knowing that Dig and the car were just around the corner.

“I’ve got company,” she grumbled.

With those words, she could hear John start the car. But she hadn’t heard Steve Hastings running to catch up to her, and she gasped when he grabbed her arm. “Where are you going so fast? I know a few people who would be  _interested_ in you,” he said, looking her up and down like a piece of meat.

Blood boiled as she yanked her arm away. “You’re a disgusting excuse of a person.”

“Felicity?” John asked, his voice rising in concern, a car door slamming shut as he started moving in.

Steve grabbed her arm again, and she yelped as his grip showed his anger, his fingers twisting into her skin. He pulled on her, forcing her forward and she stumbled. Felicity had no idea where he was trying to take her, but with Dig being mere seconds away, she knew he wouldn’t get very far. “Let me go!” She demanded as he dragged her along.

Glancing over her shoulder, she could just see Diggle coming into view, his gun raised and trained on Hastings. 

Before he had a chance to pull the trigger, Steve Hastings was coughing up blood on her face. Felicity gasped, whipping back around, her gaze focused on him first. A sword was buried in his chest, his eyes wide as he loosened his grip on her arm and fell to the ground. 

In the next moment, the sword was being pulled out of his chest, and she registered Slade Wilson standing in front of her.

Her immediate, logical response was to back away. As fast as she could. “Hello again, Felicity.”

John was beside her a breath later, his gun pointed at Slade now. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I owe Oliver a lot,” he replied lowly, his accent as prominent as she remembered, but his voice was much less menacing. Oliver believed that the Mirakuru cure had cured the crazy out of Slade...but then again, he had just murdered someone with a sword right in front of her. “I don’t like debts. Taking down the organization that will free him and keeping you safe...that’s how I repay the kid. We’ll be even after this.”

Felicity’s adrenaline was pumping, and her eyes darted to Diggle. “He asked  _Slade_ to watch out for me!?” She hissed, “did you know about this!?”

“Not the kid, Miss Smoak,” Slade answered at the same time that John shook his head, “Agent Watson was the one who reached out. You take down The Quadrant, your husband is free, right? Watson thinks we can work through that list a lot faster if we do things my way,” he gestured to the body.

She shook her head adamantly, “no way.”

Slade rolled the one eye he had, “I’ve seen the list Watson has. There are hundreds of men that either need to be killed or imprisoned before Oliver gets out of that hellhole Samanda Watson put him in.” He raised an eyebrow, “how soon do you want to see your husband again? A few months, or thirty years?”

Felicity bit her lip without answering. 

Becoming bounty hunters for The Quadrant was an insane idea. Yet, Slade had a point. Doing things the moral way would mean months of gathering evidence, trials, and prosecutions. It would take years before they were all brought to justice. Which meant  _years_ before Oliver would be safe and home again. 

“Felicity...” John grumbled, “you’re not actually considering this.”

“The deal is that Oliver will be free once The Quadrant is gone. He’ll be in jail until they’re no longer a problem.” She clenched her jaw as she finally realized the implication of what Watson had meant; “Samanda never said  _how_ I should get rid of them.”

Slade nodded slowly, “well, I’ll take care of hit list number one, you two will discuss the details, I’m sure...” he smirked crookedly at her, “I’ll see you soon, Felicity.”

John huffed, stalking off to the car, and she followed, not knowing what else to say to Slade. Her partner waited until she was safely buckled before he whipped out of the parking lot, his expression serious.

Oh, he was mad. But he also waited until they were far away from Slade before he spoke. “How is this plan any better than Oliver’s when we first met him? I remember all those years ago, you telling him that he didn’t have to work off of a list of criminals just to right his father’s wrongs. You were the one who convinced him that there was always a better way.”

She stayed quiet, knowing that he was right, but there was also a tiny voice in her head saying ‘ _maybe it’s not always that simple. Maybe sometimes you really do have to give in and become something else in order to do what’s necessary.’_

They were almost back to the safe house when John’s phone started to ring, and they shared a look, each of them wondering if it had something to do with the crime scene in a parking garage they’d just fled from. Dig fished his phone out of his pocket and handed it to Felicity. She frowned down at Lyla’s name as she answered. “Hey, everything okay?”

“Uh, no,” she replied breathlessly. “William’s gone.”

Her heart jumped into her throat, “what do you mean he’s  _gone_?”

“He took off. Rene and I are heading out to try to find him. I have him on the cameras running north, so—” she cut herself off, but Felicity read between the lines. _So, at least we know he wasn’t taken._

“What’s wrong?” Dig asked, his eyes on the road.

“William ran away,” she mumbled, trying to think where he would go.

“That doesn’t sound like him,” John said with a frown.

“I know. He wanted to talk earlier and I told him we could as soon as I got home...I don’t know why he would—oh my god,” she gasped, “what day is it?”

“June third...why?”

“You need to turn around,” she told him. “Lyla, I know where he is.”

Lyla let out a relieved breath, “where?”

“Star City Cemetery.”

Twenty minutes later, she pulled off her heels and hurried through the cemetery, catching sight of his red backpack and running towards it. 

William sat in front of the grave with his Flash backpack still on his shoulders. Now that she could see him and she knew he was okay, she slowed down, hanging back and giving him a moment alone.

Diggle caught up and joined her, offering a napkin and gesturing to the dried blood still on her jaw and neck. And Felicity quickly worked to get it off. After a while, John nudged her towards William, and she sighed, walking over to him slowly. “Hey, buddy,” she said quietly.

William closed his eyes, “I know she’s not really here, but I needed to talk to her.”

Felicity nodded with understanding, looking down at Samantha’s grave as she moved to sit beside him. Samantha’s body was in her hometown, near her parents, but Oliver wanted to give William a place in Star City where he could remember his mother, too.

It wasn’t as hard as she thought it might be to push everything else aside. She may have forgotten that it was the anniversary of Samantha’s death, but William clearly hadn’t. She stopped thinking about Slade, Watson, and even Oliver. 

Instead, she focused on showing William that honoring the dead didn’t have to be sad. She prompted him to share some of his memories with Samantha, to tell her about his childhood growing up. And she listened as he talked, both of them laughing more than once. 

When the conversation finally died down, William stared at Samantha’s name carved into stone. “Thanks, Felicity.”

She pulled him against her side, resting her cheek on the top of his head. “I’m sorry I wasn’t listening when you wanted to talk earlier,” Felicity looked down at him, making sure he understood, “you’re my priority, too, William. You and your dad.”

Her step-son nodded, “I know. And I’m sorry I ran away.”

Felicity smiled at him, “you ready to head home?” William nodded again, helping her to her feet. 

On the ride home, John and Felicity both made it a point to perk up for William’s sake, ignoring earlier events as she listened to the two of them ramble about baseball the same way William and Oliver always did.

Once they got back to the safe house, Lyla and Rene seemed to be on the same page without complaint. All four of them put their energy into the kids they had under the roof. 

And she couldn’t stop thinking how strange it felt; to do her best with aiding John in cooking a home cooked meal, to have to clean up spilled milk when JJ tipped his cup onto the living room carpet, to use an unfamiliar ‘mom voice’ as she reminded Zoe not to run in the house. 

It was an unconventional family if she’d ever seen one, but it also felt good. She’d never had a home filled with so much noise and love, all these people under one roof and working together to give each other a night where they could be happy.

Yet, as much as she loved it, she knew that Oliver should have been a part of it. Which was ironic considering the fact that the only reason it was happening was because he sent himself to prison and made the decision to send her to the safe house. 

JJ fell asleep first, right on the couch in the middle of a movie. And Lyla excused herself to put him to bed. Zoe wasn’t far behind, and Rene carried her out of the house with whispered goodbyes before the credits rolled. Then, as soon as the movie was over, William stretched, said goodnight, and headed for his room. 

With the house quiet again, she felt how exhausting of a day it’d been. Dig didn’t even try to talk about Slade or Steve Hastings again, hugging her before he headed to bed himself. Felicity cleaned up some of the mess they’d made, popcorn between the couch cushions and pillows and blankets thrown around the room. 

Leaving the pile of dishes in the sink for the morning, Felicity turned the remaining lights off and slowly climbed the stairs to her room. As much as she hated the way in which she’d ended up there...the house, and more specifically the memory of that night, was starting to grow on her.

Switching the light on in her bedroom, Felicity undressed, changing into one of Oliver’s stolen t-shirts. She washed her face and tied her hair into a bun on the top of her head. Then she yawned as she faced the mirror on her dresser, looking at her reflection as she took her earrings out.

A piece of paper caught her attention. It was a note, left on her dresser. She picked it up and read the short message, “keep up the good work. —Samanda”

Under the note was a historic looking phone. A burner for sure. As she flipped it open, she found only one number programmed into it. And she sighed, turning the light off and closing her eyes, she climbed into bed. 

Lying there in the dark, Felicity seriously considered putting off the phone call until tomorrow, fully expecting Watson to try to talk her into working with Slade to kill members of The Quadrant. The woman was a dirtier government official than she’d thought. She made Amanda Waller look like a saint.

Knowing that she wouldn’t be able to sleep until she got it out of the way, Felicity groaned and made the call.

“What?” Oliver’s voice came through on the second ring. He sounded guarded, probably expecting Watson’s presence just like she’d been. But when Felicity whimpered in surprise, she heard him gasp. “Felicity? Is that you?”

“Hi,” she couldn’t help but smile.

“Hey, you,” he breathed back, and she could hear the returning smile in his voice. Then he chuckled, “leave it to my wife to smuggle a phone into a maximum security prison. How did you manage this? I came back to my cell and found this phone hidden under my pillow.”

The amusement in his voice made her smile wider. She huffed out a laugh, “I wish I could say I’d thought of it. This was all Watson.”

“Watson?” Oliver asked, his voice dropping. 

She nodded even though he couldn’t see it. “That...” she sighed, “is a long story. It’s been a crazy day. And that’s an understatement.” Felicity bit her lip, hesitating as she debated whether or not to tell him about her deal with Samanda. Or Slade Wilson's unexpected role in it. Or William running off, for that matter.

Oliver was quiet for a moment before whispering, “I have time. Tell me about it.”


	4. Just Short

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while, so I feel I owe you all some angsty action. Note the edited tags before proceeding and pls don't yell at me too much :')

Arguing with Oliver Queen was never fun. They were both too stubborn to be productive, and even when she won an argument, it didn't feel good. Still, she wouldn't give up that phone Watson gave her for anything. Felicity knew perfectly well that it was "hush money" so to speak. Her reward for keeping quiet about Samanda's less than legal negotiations. But she didn't care.

For two weeks, she'd gotten to speak to her husband every night just before bed. It was her secret. And she knew she was being selfish, but she was afraid that if anyone knew she could reach Oliver, the privilege would be taken away. He didn't mention it either, never asked for more than their nightly conversations.

"Felicity," Oliver says her name in that parental tone she hates. Authoritative and superior. She groaned in irritation, but he ignored it. "I don't want you to do this. Working with Slade-"

"Like you did," she interrupted, listening to him grunt in response. 

"I worked with Slade to survive on Lian-Yu. Then again, because I had to rely on him to save the people I love. I almost died trying to save his son. None of those situations involved a hit list, Felicity!"

"Would you do it for me?" She asked.

In the silence that followed, Felicity turned onto her side, closing her eyes and nestling into her pillow. For a long moment, she listed to his breath on the line and the crickets outside her window. "What do you mean?" He finally mumbled.

Knowing that he knew exactly what she meant, Felicity clucked her tongue. "If I were in prison, and the only way to get me out of there was to go after a bunch of murders and sex traffickers, would you do it?"

When he paused, she knew that he would tell her the truth. Of course, the answer was yes. He would. But she was glad that at least he wasn't about to bullshit her. Annoyed, Oliver sighed. "Yeah, Felicity. But you haven't done the things that I've done. You don't have a long list of people you've killed. I do. _I_ deserve to be in a place like this. You wouldn't."

"Okay. What if I did?" She countered, "what if our roles were reversed here, and I killed countless people in my life so that I could survive. And what if you fell in love with me despite all of that. Would you still try to save me?"

He let out a deep breath, "of course I would."

"Then trust me," she whispered back.

The next breath he took was shaky, and she closed her eyes at the sound. "I do trust you, baby. I always have. This was never about trust. I just don't know how I'm supposed to live with myself if anything happens to you or William. I feel-" he cut himself off.

"What?"

"I'm going crazy in here, and it's only been a few weeks. I just can't stop thinking about Diaz. If he comes back... I dream about it, Felicity. I made a mistake, and now he's out there, and I'm in here." She closed her eyes as he let his fears out, his rushed confession sounding more like her own babbling, frantic and unfiltered. It broke her heart to hear him so desperate for control, trapped in a place where he had none. "The last thing I want to do is scare you, but I can't help but worry...and it _terrifies_ me, Felicity. I trust Dig, I do. But it should be _me_ keeping you safe. You and William are  _my_ family, I should be the one protecting you."

Looking up at her ceiling, Felicity wasn't sure what to say. There was nothing she could say that he didn't already know. That John would die for them if he had to. That it was Oliver's decision to condemn himself and create this whole situation. That his fear is valid...Diaz probably was still out there, and they both knew it.

"Felicity," Oliver choked, "please say something."

Sighing, Felicity struggled to choose between comfort or honesty. "I love you, Oliver," she said slowly, "and I'm sorry that you're so anxious. I don't even want to imagine what Slabside is like for you. The people that you're in there with. But I'm also so angry with you," she paused when he whimpered, a muffled sound. "I love William, you know I do. But I never wanted to do this alone," she breathed, blinking back tears as she finally admitted it. "I thought when I married you, that things would change...that you would _include_ me, instead of making decisions _for_ me. And I thought that we would raise William together, a true partnership. We're both his parents, and I can't stop wondering why it feels like you left us."

He inhales sharply, and then releases the breath, his voice strained as he answers, "I'm so sorry..."

"I know you are," Felicity forces a smile as she speaks, hoping he can hear it in her voice.

"Felicity... I know I don't have the right to ask, but could we please table this for now? I don't want to get into something that we can't take back. I understand how angry you are, and you have every right to be. But please, can we just take some time before we decide what happens next?"

She knew what he was getting at. He was afraid she was angry enough to leave him. Although that wasn't the case, she did agree that dropping the conversation would be best. 

Before she could say anything else, Felicity heard a floorboard outside her room creak. She shot up in bed, her instincts heightened now that she slept alone. "William?" She asked lowly, waiting for a response.

Her heart began to race when she heard the footsteps walking away, down the hall. She scrambled out of bed, whimpering her step-son's name one more time.

Everything in her body told her that it wasn't William. 

"Felicity?" Oliver's voice in her ear reminded her that she was still holding the phone. It was clear that he could sense the shift, the tone in her voice. "What is it?"

After all the things he'd just revealed about feeling helpless to protect them, Felicity pursed her lips shut. She didn't want to make it worse if she was just being paranoid. "I don't know," she whispered back, opening the door as quietly as she could.

William's room was right across the hall from hers, and with both of their doors open, she could see him sleeping soundly in his bed, illuminated by the nightlight in the corner. She watched his chest rise and fall peacefully, catching her own breath. "Maybe I'm just going crazy," she whispered to herself, not seeing anything out of the ordinary as she glanced around the upper level of the home. The hall was empty. Bathroom was empty. Guest bedroom was empty.

"What happened?" Oliver asked, his voice low, stressed.

"It's okay," she breathed, moving to the window in the hallway to close it, shivering at the breeze coming in. "Everything's okay."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, William's fine, I just thought-" Felicity froze as she realized that she never opened the window. 

William was asleep by the time she'd come upstairs. And it was closed when she went to bed. 

As if on cue, Felicity heard more movement downstairs. A guttural grunt and a thump...coming from the kitchen. There was no mistaking it this time. "Oliver," she whispered, "someone's in the house."

The sound that came out of her husband was pained. "Get William and get out, Felicity."

"John and Lyla..." she trailed off, taking a step towards the stairs, thinking of her friends sleeping down there, unaware and unprepared. "JJ is here," her voice broke. She couldn't just run.

"Felicity, please," Oliver begged. This was his worst nightmare coming true, and for a fleeting moment, she thought about hanging up the phone so that he didn't have to hear whatever came next.

"Where are the weapons, Oliver?"

"I've seen layouts of the house, you can make it out through the second-story window. The one between William's room and yours?" The one someone had opened just to scare her? "It's a short drop from the garage roof to the ground, and then you need to run. Felicity, I'm begging you." She closed her eyes and focused on listening for more sounds. In her hesitation, Oliver huffed, "or go in William's room and lock the door. Take your phone and call Dig, let him know. Just, please, Felicity..."

"I can't just leave them, Oliver. In a safe house like this...where would they hide the guns?"

He choked on a sob, and she could practically picture him pulling at his hair, desperate to do something. Staying on the phone and listening was the only option, and it was killing him. After a moment, he mumbled "under the floorboards. In the corner by that window, one of the boards is loose. There should be a gun there." His voice was empty of emotion, but she ignored it, checking the edges until she found what she was looking for.

Diggle had taught her how to shoot a gun years ago, when Oliver refused. She wasn't an expert, but she had to try. Before she went down the stairs, she quickly and quietly closed the door to William's room, locking it behind her.

"Okay," she breathed, her voice barely a whisper as she took the stairs slowly on her bare feet, careful not to make a sound. The house was silent again, but she didn't doubt herself this time, she knew what she heard. Holding the gun up and ready with one hand, Felicity cradled the phone to her ear in the other, creeping through the house towards John and Lyla's room.

As she snuck by the kitchen, the first thing she saw was blood.

A trail of it lead from the island to the dining room table, and that was where she found Rene. He was slumped against the wall, a blood-stained hand on his abdomen. When she dropped to her knees and crawled to him, he glanced up at her, his eyes going wide. "He's here," Rene grit out through his teeth. "Diaz. I saw him through the window and I tried-" His jaw clenched as Felicity put more pressure on his wound, pushing her hand over his. The phone fell from her shoulder and landed on the floor beside them, forgotten while she watched her friend bleed out.

He was paler than she'd ever seen him, the life in his eyes dimming.

None of their past struggles mattered in that moment. Her eyes welled with tears, "you're going to be okay, you're gonna be fine, it's okay," she hurried the words, trying to convince herself as much as she was trying to convince him.

Rene chuckled, the sound wheezing. "Don't lie to me, blondie. You suck at it."

"Rene," Felicity blinked, clenching her jaw and trying to muster up the confidence that they both needed.

"Just wanted to be a hero," he sighed.

"You are. Hey," she got his attention, leaning in until he looked at her. "We're lucky to have you next door."

Smiling, Rene shook his head. "I screwed things up more than I helped," he whispered, and she shook her head. "Listen," he heaved, "I stabbed Diaz in the side, you _need_ to hit him there. Get Dig, and please take care of my girl, she's-" he stopped himself when his voice cracked. "It's okay, go." The thought of leaving Rene to die alone was terrible, and her legs felt too heavy to move. "Felicity," he called her by her name for one of the first and only times she could remember. Rene looked her right in the eyes, his gaze confident, "this is my redemption. I'm okay with it. _Go_ ,"

Letting out a low, strangled cry, Felicity nodded.

First, she brought a towel to him. Pressing it against his stomach uselessly, both of them knowing that it would do nothing to stop the bleeding at that point. Then she gave him one last look as she picked the gun back up, thanking him. He nodded, and she moved towards John and Lyla's room. The door was closed, and she tried the knob. "John?" She whispered. The door immediately swung open, and Lyla dragged her in.

"Diaz is here," Lyla said frantically, her eyes didn't leave JJ, asleep on their bed.

"I know. Where's Dig?"

"He went to get you and William. You didn't see him?"

"No, I-" She paused, watching as Lyla looked down at her, seeing her shirt and hands covered in blood. "Rene. I don't think he..."

Lyla closed her eyes, "I should have killed that son of a bitch," she growled, "Watson's jurisdiction be damned."

"I have to go find them," Felicity mumbled. She waited for the inevitable argument, but when Lyla said nothing, Felicity realized that unlike John, Oliver, and the rest of the team, the woman had no intention of stopping her, telling her she couldn't, or trying to protect her.

Lyla lifted her chin, "do what you have to do," she mumbled lowly. 

She didn't have time to think about how Lyla was doing the same, staying behind to keep JJ safe while John went out there alone. Felicity nodded, "be ready to let William in. I'll send him down." Lyla nodded back, and then Felicity took a deep breath and moved to the door. 

With a hand on her arm, Lyla stopped her. She took the gun out of Felicity's hand and cocked it, adjusting Felicity's fingers to the correct grip. Then she met her eyes, "be careful," Lyla said, her full A.R.G.U.S voice coming out.

"Yeah," Felicity breathed, "thanks."

As she heard the door shut behind her, Felicity moved to the stairs, gasping when she saw Diaz for the first time. He stood with his back to her, at the top of the staircase. Her gaze flickered down the hall, following Diaz's attention. Beyond him, Felicity could see John standing tall by the balcony over her head, and right behind him, William was crouched down, hiding behind Dig's back. 

Feeling her eyes on him, William looked down through the bars of the railing. 

John was unarmed, but she could see a gun hidden in the waist of Diaz's pants. Not to mention the knife in his hand. Unfortunately, they knew that Ricardo Diaz wasn't a fair fighter. Oliver had learned that the hard way. And she wasn't about to risk William's life on it.

Seeing Diaz take a step toward John and William, Felicity yelled before thinking. "Hey!"

John's head snapped down to look at her, and Diaz turned to do the same. "There you are, Felicity! I was wondering when you'd show up to the party." 

"You want me?" She asked breathlessly, "then come get me." Diaz cocked his head to the side, probably suspicious of her bravery. But she'd rather die than let William or John get hurt. His eyes flickered from William to her, as if debating who to exact his revenge on. "Come on you coward," Felicity taunted, staring at him. "You didn't go through all this trouble just to harm an innocent kid. Where's the courage in that? I thought you were supposed to be scary."

He narrowed his eyes at her, smiling like he knew she was baiting him. Yet he still started coming towards her, her words hitting his pride.

John took a step to stop him, but Diaz turned quickly on his heel, throwing the knife in his hand. And a moment later, John was on the ground, the blade buried in his thigh.

"Shit," Felicity gasped, slipping on the rug beneath her feet. One last look up at the balcony told her that William was trying to help Dig. And she ran, finally listening to Oliver's advice.

She ran straight for the door, hearing Diaz's quick steps coming down the stairs, chasing her.

Her adrenaline was racing, and Felicity flung the door open, glancing over her shoulder to make sure he was behind. She just wanted Diaz out of the house. Away from her family. And that was all she could process. It was clear that he came to get revenge on Oliver. Like the scum that he was, targeting his wife and child in the security of night, sneaking into their house because he knew they'd be vulnerable. 

Her heart was pounding in her chest, her breath shallow, and she had no idea how long she'd be able to run when she was already breathless, or how far he'd follow her until he gave up and went back for them.

She didn't have to find out though, because as soon as she reached the street, Felicity's bare feet got the better of her. Tripping on the uneven pavement, pain shot up through her toes. Felicity fell on her knees in the middle of the street, yelping as she felt at least one toe break.

Diaz whistled from behind her, and she turned over, crawling away from him as she struggled for air, her legs dragging against the tar.

He closed the distance quickly, leaning over and looking down at her like she was an injured animal. Like prey. When Diaz hovered above her, the pity in his eyes made her furious.

She immediately rammed her leg up and into his groin. As Diaz crumpled forward, grabbing his pants and whining, Felicity sat up and punched him where she could see blood on his side. The wound Rene inflicted. Then she scrambled to her feet as he fell to his knees in front of her.

Her legs were bleeding from where she fell, and her toes were definitely broken, making balance hard. But she ignored the pain and gripped his head between her hands.

Thinking of Oliver, of Rene, John, William, and Quentin; every person who had somehow been hurt or taken from her because of the disgusting rat in front of her... Felicity put all of her power into her next hit.

Her knee connected with his face, so hard that she had to let go of her grip on him to let his head snap backwards. She panted as Diaz screamed, blood gushing from his nose, and then between his fingers when he reached for his face.

"You're going to pay for that, you stupid bit-" His words were cut off by a sharp metallic ring from behind him. Diaz's eyebrows furrowed at the sound. Before he could turn to look behind him, Felicity watched a sword emerge from his chest. In through the back, out through the front.

She let out a surprised, breathless yelp, just like she had the week before.

Gasping, Felicity stared as Ricardo Diaz's body hit the wet pavement, cringing at the sound of the sword being pulled out of his chest, letting him fall in a bloody heap.

Felicity blinked up at Slade Wilson, feeling a shocked sense of déjà vu. "We've got to stop meeting like this, miss Smoak."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think!!


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